


Perfectly imperfect

by gabsrambles



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 13:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14695557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabsrambles/pseuds/gabsrambles
Summary: The lead up to their happy ending, snapshot style





	Perfectly imperfect

**Author's Note:**

> My final love note to this pairing

 

It’s all an accident.

Like that damn truck so long ago: straight out of nowhere—yet maybe, just maybe, if they’d been paying full attention they might have seen it coming.

But who’s always paying full attention in life?

*

“Who’s that?”

“Hm?”

“Who’s that?” There’s a pause and Callie almost looks up but then her phone buzzes again. “You’ve been on your phone for ages.”

“I know, sorry. It’s just Arizona—we’re trying to coordinate dates for her to bring Sofia to New York for my weekend.”

Another pause.

“Okay.”

*

Work is always all consuming, just like Callie likes it. Elbow deep in research and statistics and creating things from scratch. It helps, a little, to take that edge off of missing Sofia. Because it’s like a hole, like someone’s hand is in her chest and rifling around to pull out something important.

But she took Sofia from Arizona for a while, and then Sofia wanted to be with Arizona and Callie made the choices that made that even an option, so she takes a deep breath and let her go.

It hurts. A never ending ache. It reminds her of the first time she and Arizona broke up, sure they were incompatible in life and culminating in the elevator where Callie started to realise she couldn’t stay away from her even if it was in her best interest.

It reminds her of missing Arizona back then, but even worse.

She misses her daughter, and the only person that really gets that is Arizona, who’s the one that gets to be with her.

*

“Babe.”

Sofia’s dressed up for Halloween and Callie’s screen just isn’t big enough to take it all in, and that missing her is a ball in her gut. Sofia’s smiling and there’s Mark in that smile, and Callie in her eyes but the pose she’s striking, the little jut of her chin—that’s all Arizona.

“Babe?”

Callie finally looks up. “Hey.” She smiles and Penny smiles back, something like relief in it. “Hey, sorry, how was your day?”

And she speaks, but Callie’s eye is pulled back to her phone, where another photo appears and a comment from Arizona that just fits what Callie is thinking and her smile’s for the phone, now.

_Doesn’t she remind you of Mark here?_

*

Penny’s gone weeks later and Callie feels like maybe she shouldn’t be sitting in her apartment with a glass of wine and feeling surprised by that. Why is she surprised by that?

It was…not unpleasant, the break up. Polite, almost.

Much like their entire relationship.

That makes Callie huff a laugh into her wine and she’s so alone and it’s Callie’s turn with Sofia this weekend but that feels so far away because it’s only Monday and Penny has left and that’s a conversation she needs to have with Sofia.

Everything is silent and the room’s gotten dark while she’s sat here feeling sorry for herself. The quiet is pressing in on her ears and it’s that weird quiet that’s deafening and then her phone buzzes, making her jump, wine sloshing over the sides and making her fingers tacky.

Arizona. With no photo of Sofia, just a comment. A two sentence anecdote about something Karev said about his upcoming wedding that she’d known Callie would laugh at.

She does, and the sound shatters that painful quiet.

*

Sofia in her arms is like crack, all over again. Like when she was so small and Callie was trying to leave her and failing miserably. She’s grown since two weeks ago, and that blow is right to Callie’s gut. She covers it with a grin and an even tighter hug and Sofia clings to her a moment too long—how hard for her, to be going between them. How little she shows it, always trying to be strong and happy and what they need.

Sofia’s home and that just feels right again.

“Thanks,” Callie says as she stands, Arizona in the doorway with Sofia’s little bag she brings with her favourite things even though she has everything she needs here. “For bringing her to the apartment.”

Arizona’s face is soft—she’s looking at them, so soft, her eyes a blue that Callie’s missed, and if that thought is one she’s had too often, that would be why she’s not at all surprised by it.

“No problem.” That smile is on her face, the too-big one she uses when she’s covering something up and Callie wants to ask her what it is but Sofia’s arms are around her waist, her face buried in her stomach. “That flight was so delayed that I missed the return anyway, so I’ll stay in a hotel tonight.”

“Stay here!” And Sofia has let go of Callie and whipped around to turn her grin on Arizona, who is mush instantly and Callie has to bite her tongue as Sofia even throws in a hug. “Stay here with us, the sofa becomes a bed and you can use one of my pillows.” She tilts her head up and her chin is digging into Arizona’s hip—why is she so  _big_  when she was that  _small_. She’s all radiating charm and smile and Arizona doesn’t stand a chance, her wide eyes are on Callie like Callie can fix it.

And Callie’s about to try, but then Sofia twists to smile at her. “Right, Mom?”

“Sure, sweetie.” She doesn’t look at Arizona now because she’ll just be smug that Callie caved so easily.

“Yes!”

And then Sofia’s grabbed her bag and ran down the hallway and Callie has to look at Arizona since it’s just them and it would be  _weird_  if she doesn’t.

She’s as smug as Callie knew she’d be.

“Oh, shut up.”

And Arizona laughs, the sound filtering into the apartment that’s done nothing but feel oppressive all week, and mingles with the sound of Sofia pulling her room apart as she hunts for something and Callie  _aches_  with something she can’t name.

They’re in the kitchen in a way they haven’t shared space in far too long and Arizona sucks in a breath, finally, and asks, “How are you holding up?”

And sometimes Callie wishes they never reached this mature place in their relationship, because she told Arizona yesterday that Penny left, because Callie was going to have to have that conversation with Sofia, and Callie and Arizona  _always_  discuss what they tell Sofia, and how.

She wishes they never reached this place, because Penny is the last thing on Callie’s mind right now. Arizona’s elbows are on the table and she’s holding a coffee, the steam rising up, and some of the finer blonde hair at her forehead frizzes and  _soft_  is the only word Callie can think of again.

“You know,” Callie starts. “I’m actually fine?”

And Arizona smiles like she gets it and Callie can see relief in her eyes and no, she really doesn’t want to talk about Penny.

*

Sofia’s asleep and Callie talked about Penny anyway, because Sofia needed that conversation and Arizona stayed in the kitchen for it with them, because Sofia asked her to and Callie thought it might help, anyway.

Sofia was fine.

The TV is on, so quiet it’s hardly audible, and Arizona is next to her on the sofa, two mostly untouched glasses of wine on the coffee table and god, this could be just a few years ago.

But it couldn’t, because so much is different.

“This is weird.”

And Callie whips her head around at Arizona’s words, and Arizona is looking at her, her lips curved up and her eyebrow quirked and Callie laughs softly.

“Isn’t it?”

And she’s so close, so Callie looks back to the TV, but sees nothing. She’s so close and she smells like Arizona, she must  _still_  use the same shampoo. She’s Arizona and she’s next to her and Sofia is asleep down the hall and  _how_  does this, of all things, after so long, feel so right and not actually weird at all.

Their elbows are pressed close and if Callie’s shifted, just slightly, their legs would be pressed along each other and suddenly, that’s all Callie wants to do. Instead, she lets her hand fall next to Arizona’s, resting on the cushion between them.

It’s such a small touch. Barely there. Not even in existence really, just the edge of their fingers together but it feels like something is running from that spot, a current up her nerves and the only weird thing is how not weird any of this is.

Callie turns back, and Arizona’s still looking at the TV. “Arizona.”

Her voice is low, almost a crack in the single word.

This wasn’t planned. Arizona closes her eyes and takes in a breath, swallows so hard Callie can see her throat move with it.

“Arizona.” It’s a whisper this time, and Callie can tell it’s filled with everything, and she lets her hand shift closer, runs the tips of her fingers over the back of Arizona’s hand. That name is filled with everything, from the kiss in the bathroom that started this all to the girl down the hallway that is the best of both of them.

Arizona turns to look at her, a foot away, and she opens her eyes. They’re a well of blue, and they’re red rimmed and shimmering and  _this_  soft woman has evolved from the heely wearing surgeon that drove Bailey mad and everything they are feels linked, feels tugged together right there on the sofa, in that tiny space between them, filling it, pulling at its seams until everything could burst with it all, with everything, with all of them and all their decisions and words that have brought them right back here, together.

Callie kisses her.

She slides a hand through Arizona’s hair and brings their foreheads together and Arizona’s breath is shuddering as she drags it in and Callie tilts her head until their lips are together. It’s simple, gentle.

It’s everything.

And then it’s anything but gentle as Arizona pushes closer and Callie’s hands tug at her hair. Their lips part and the touch of tongue makes her breath hitch in her chest.

She’s missed her.

Callie’s missed her with everything.

And Arizona pushes her back against the sofa, manoeuvres her leg in a way she’s gotten so practiced at, and her thigh is between Callie’s and her hips rock and Callie throws her head back, Arizona’s lips on her neck, her tongue against her pulse point, her teeth grazing right where Callie loves it.

“Are you sure?” The words are hot and wet against Callie’s ear. “Is this just, a—a rebound?” She pulls back a little now, hand pushing into couch cushions. “I just need to know.”

Something fragile is in her voice.

Callie wraps a hand around the base of Arizona’s neck, tugs her back to her mouth.

This kiss is fire and electricity.

It’s everything they knew. It’s everything new. It’s everything that could be.

It’s home.

She doesn’t know what Arizona is, but she’s not a rebound. Arizona has never been that–the idea is almost laughable. Callie’s starting to think that’s what Penny was. That’s what anyone who wasn’t Arizona was.

“I’m sure.” Callie manages to get the words out, their foreheads together and both of them are breathing too hard, Arizona’s shirt rucked up and Callie’s hand on the smooth skin of her back. “And no, you’re not that.” She opens her eyes. “Wait.” And everything pauses. “Aren’t you seeing someone?”

Callie can hardly see it like this, but Arizona’s smile is radiant. It’s breathtaking. “It ended. Last weekend. I actually have some news about work. And, well, life.”

And Callie wants to hear it. She does. But Arizona’s skin is burning against her palm and that thigh is shifting between her legs and everything feels hot. She wants to be in a bed, where they can lock the door. She wants clothes thrown on the floor and sweaty skin and Arizona.

“Can it wait?”

And Arizona’s still smiling, and nods. “We have time.”

And it’s all an utter accident.

A perfectly imperfect one.


End file.
